


May Your Days Be Merry and Bright

by earlgreytea68



Series: Swan Song [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 00:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17012196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreytea68/pseuds/earlgreytea68
Summary: Entirely Christmas fluff.





	May Your Days Be Merry and Bright

**Author's Note:**

> I was like, "I want a Swan Song Christmas fic!" And I didn't have much time, so I couldn't let this get long, so I tried not to let it get out of hand.
> 
> Thank you as ever and always to amy and QT for flying the Swan Song flag and pulling everyone along and dei and mousie and etc., etc.

“Okay,” says Matt, with the enthusiasm typical of the opening volley of a scheme. 

 

Patrick braces himself mentally and looks up from the math homework he's checking over. 

 

“I was patient all through Halloween,” Matt continues. He's sitting at the opposite end of the couch, looking very serious. 

 

“Patient?” Patrick echoes, because he has no idea what Matt is talking about. 

 

“But now it's November and I feel like it's the appropriate time to discuss our Christmas strategy.”

 

“Christmas strategy?” Sometimes conversations with Matt merely require periodic repetition of confusing phrases. 

 

Matt is off and running. “When you think about it, I am probably the ideal Santa. Like, we will put the best Santa scheme into place. The kids won't know what hit them. They'll be so impressed Santa upped his game this year. Not to imply you were a bad Santa every other year but...no, I'm totally implying that. Whimsy isn't a strong suit of yours.”

 

“Because you have more than enough for both of us,” Patrick says automatically, and Matt beams with pride at the compliment. 

 

“Thank you,” he says. 

 

“But.” Patrick hesitates, because this is almost worse than the year Hailey stopped believing. 

 

“But?” Matt prompts. 

 

“You know my kids are too old to believe in Santa Claus, right?”

 

Matt stares at him in such obvious shock that Patrick feels terrible, wondering how long Matt had been musing over a holiday filled with Santa magic. “Not even Hailey?”

 

“She's twelve, Matt. How old were you when--” Patrick cuts himself off, because of course Matt never believed in Santa. He didn't have that kind of childhood. No wonder Matt had been jubilant at the idea. Matt had never had a Christmas with presents from Santa in it. 

 

“But Adam's a baby,” Matt protests. 

 

“Yeah, he's a year old. He has no idea what's going on. Look.” Patrick puts the math homework aside to tug Matt over. “Don't despair. You've got all of Adam's fun Santa years ahead of you. It's just not so much this year.”

 

“Right,” Matt says, rallying. “Right. Of course. Next year. Next year we'll have a whole Santa scheme.”

 

***

 

“Okay,” Patrick announces to the girls. Matt is in the studio re-recording some vocals, and subterfuge doesn't come naturally to Patrick so he needs to make this quick. “Here's the deal.”

 

The girls look a little wary, because Patrick is unlikely to start fun conversations this way. He knows that when Matt starts conversations this way, the kids lean forward in anticipation of whatever nonsense thing Matt has fixated on. 

 

“We're going to do Santa this year,” Patrick says. 

 

“Do Santa?” Kylie echoes. 

 

“I'm going to put the elf out, and you're going to write letters to the North Pole, and we're all going to go and sit on Santa's knee and ask for toys without complaining.”

 

“I'm not sitting on his knee.” Kylie wrinkles her nose. “That's creepy.”

 

“Fair point,” Patrick concedes. “You can just stand in his vicinity.”

 

“I don't want toys,” Miranda reminds him. “I'm asking for that camera that Anna sent you the specs on.”

 

Jesus, thinks Patrick, Matt is kind of right to be disappointed. When did all the magic go out of Christmas? It suddenly feels to Patrick faintly like a fucking business transaction he and his kids negotiate together. 

 

“Don't you think it's a little sad that you know exactly what you're getting for Christmas,” Patrick says, “such that you had  _ specs _ sent to me to make sure I get the right model?”

 

Miranda shrugs. “I think it's practical.”

 

“This is about Matt,” Hailey inserts suddenly, which isn't surprising, because of the three Hailey has turned out to be unfailingly the most perceptive about the rockier areas of Matt's entry into their lives. 

 

“Is Matt really into Santa?” Miranda asks. 

 

“No. Matt was never into Santa. Matt never had a Christmas with a family. We're his first one. I want it to be like in the movies.”

 

“Filled with wacky shenanigans and dramatic misunderstandings that all magically get resolved on Christmas Eve?” Kylie asks drily. 

 

“Let's just focus on the magic bit,” Patrick says. “Wouldn't it be nice, for all of us, to make a more magical effort?” Patrick takes a deep breath. “Look, last year I was still such a mess that we barely got the tree up, and I appreciate that you didn't complain too much about that. This year, let's do the whole thing right.”

 

The girls look thoughtful, then Miranda says, “I'm still getting the camera, right?”

 

***

 

The elf shows up on the day after Thanksgiving, startling Matt on his quest for a cup of coffee, its freaky little head poking out of one of the kitchen cupboards. 

 

Matt says, “What the fuck is this?” and goes to grab it. 

 

“You can't touch it!” Hailey shrieks, barreling into the kitchen from down the hall to suspend Matt's arm. 

 

“What?” Matt asks blankly. 

 

“Don't you know the rule? Oh, I guess of course you don't. The rule is you can't touch Starlight, it makes her sick.”

 

“Who's Starlight?”

 

“The elf.” Hailey gestures to the cupboard. “Kylie named her.”

 

“I had stupid taste,” Kylie says as she arrives in the kitchen. 

 

“You were three,” Patrick says fondly, coming in with Adam in his arms, grabbing a bottle, and then ducking back out again. 

 

Matt slides Kylie a half-full mug of coffee that she can doctor with cream because he's a terrible stepfather. 

 

She says, “Can you drive me and my friends to the movies today?”

 

“My friends and me,” Patrick calls from down the hall. 

 

“My friends and me,” Kylie huffs. 

 

“Sure,” Matt says. “I guess. We have nothing planned.” Patrick comes back into the kitchen. “We have nothing planned, right?” 

 

“What movie is it?” Patrick asks, and leans past Matt to grab coffee, since Matt got distracted by weird creepy elf-faces. 

 

“Not rated R,” Kylie replies. 

 

“Well, that’s just dull,” says Matt. 

 

“Matt,” says Patrick. 

 

Matt winks at Kylie. 

 

Patrick kisses the corner of his mouth and practically dumps Adam into his arms in a semi-skillful transfer. 

 

Matt says, “Hey, kiddo,” and then, “What’s the deal with the elf?” 

 

“Starlight,” Patrick and Hailey correct him in unison. 

 

“She comes on the day after Thanksgiving,” Hailey says, “and she keeps an eye on us, and then goes back to the North Pole every night to tell Santa how we’re doing.” 

 

“Huh,” says Matt, and glances back at the elf. 

 

“It’s totalitarian training,” Miranda announces, making an appearance. 

 

“It’s friendly surveillance,” Patrick says. “Good morning, Starlight.” 

 

Adam reaches for the elf. 

 

All three girls shriek, “You can’t touch her!” 

 

Matt supposes old habits die hard. 

 

***

 

“What’s with the elf?” Matt asks Patrick that night. 

 

Patrick is half-asleep, rouses himself enough to say, “Hmm? Oh. Starlight. Didn’t we explain?” 

 

“It’s a doll,” Matt says. “Not an actual elf going back and forth to the North Pole. Your kids don’t believe in Santa anymore.” 

 

“Oh, fuck,” Patrick says around a yawn. “I forgot to move her. Can you go move her? She’s got to be in a different spot in the morning so the kids think she went to the North Pole.” 

 

“Your kids don’t believe in Santa,” Matt reminds him. 

 

“Please?” Patrick asks, with that look Matt can’t refuse. 

 

Matt is perplexed but he gets out of bed and he moves Starlight from the cupboard to the top of the piano. It feels weird to touch her, he’s been warned so much against it. Starlight smiles eerily at him, and Matt doesn’t get why the household is so fixated on this tradition. 

 

Patrick is sound asleep when he gets back to the bedroom, so he decides to tackle the Starlight thing the next day. 

 

Except the next day the girls  _ write letters to Santa _ . All three of them, including Kylie, who asks in her letter for  _ Brenden Smith to notice me _ . 

 

Matt would like to say  _ Fuck Brenden Smith _ , but he is aware Patrick prefers if he refrains from swearing too much in front of the kids, so he says, “If Brenden Smith hasn’t noticed  _ you _ yet, then he’s not worth your time.” 

 

“That’s not true,” Kylie says. “Sometimes you have to make people notice you. You made Dad notice you.” 

 

“You’re not the Matt in this relationship,” Matt tells her. “You’re the stand-out star. I had to make your dad notice me because I’m the boring one.” 

 

Kylie looks skeptical. 

 

Patrick says from the kitchen, sounding amused, “I don’t know what universe you live in, you were literally on the short list for  _ People _ ’s Sexiest Man Alive the year we dropped Banter & Badinage.” 

 

“Don’t remind me,” Matt grumbles, because he’s never gotten over losing out, that had definitely been his shot. 

 

Patrick laughs at him. 

 

Matt says, “Anyway, being the sexiest man alive isn’t everything, and definitely doesn’t get you noticed by Reeds.” 

 

“We’re incredibly selective,” Patrick agrees. He keeps opening and closing cupboards in a way that indicates to Matt that they’re about to order delivery for dinner. “Which means this Brenden had better be the cream of the crop.” 

 

“Dad,” Kylie says, sounding mortified. “Please, you can’t ever meet him and say stuff like that to him.” 

 

Matt, having moved on to Miranda’s letter, remarks, “Miranda has asked in great vivid detail for a camera.” 

 

“I already know the detail, Miranda,” Patrick says. “Anna emailed me.” 

 

“Just making sure,” Miranda replies placidly. 

 

Hailey’s letter asks for  _ better makeup _ and  _ better clothes _ and  _ better books _ . Matt says, “Hmm, your letter has a theme, Hailey.” 

 

Hailey grins at him, then says to Adam, “What do you want from Santa, Adam? I’ll write him a letter for you.” 

 

Adam says, “Poon!” very wisely, and throws his spoon at Hailey’s head. 

 

Miranda says, “You already have a lot of spoons, Adam,” and Adam reconsiders his choice at her disapproving tone. 

 

“Ask for a new television,” Kylie says, “we really need one, Adam.” 

 

***

 

Matt says to Patrick that night, “Okay, but seriously: they wrote letters to Santa today.” 

 

“Ridiculous absurd impossible letters,” Patrick says, as he gets into bed. “My kids are trolling me.” 

 

“Why are they writing letters to Santa?” 

 

“It’s Christmastime,” Patrick says, and nudges Matt onto his back. 

 

“No,” says Matt. “I know. What I’m saying is, you were very clear that your kids don’t believe in Santa.” 

 

“Which is why they’re trolling me in their letters,” Patrick says, shoving Matt’s boxers down without preamble. 

 

“Why are they writing letters to Santa if they don’t believe in Santa?” Matt persists. 

 

“Kids are such enigmas,” Patrick tells him, circling a hand around Matt’s cock and stroking to encourage its interest in the proceedings. “Who can ever explain their motivations for anything?” 

 

“I know you think you’re distracting me,” Matt says. “You’re absolutely not distracting me.” 

 

Patrick grins at him and glances down pointedly and says, “Hmm, I bet your penis begs to differ, shall we ask it?” 

 

“No,” Matt says, “it’s got a one-track mind.” 

 

Patrick laughs and brushes his lips over the tip and then sits up abruptly. “Fuck, I forgot to move Starlight.” 

 

“Christ,” says Matt, “I am going to kill that fucking elf.” 

 

***

 

They  _ send the letters to Santa _ . They go to the post office and  _ put them in the Santa mailbox _ . Matt watches the proceedings with wry interest. 

 

They go to the mall and take pictures with Santa. Well, the girls take pictures with Santa. Adam wants no part of this stranger in his life and clings to Matt for dear life when Patrick tries to coax him onto Santa’s lap. He gives Matt a look that clearly says,  _ Don’t let him give me away to the bearded man _ . Patrick says, “Alright, fine, Matt, you should let me take Adam and get in the picture with the girls.”

 

“I am way too old for a picture with Santa,” Matt says. “ _ They _ are too old for a picture with Santa.” 

 

“You’re never too old for Santa Claus, Matt,” Patrick tells him. 

 

“When exactly did we step into a Christmas movie?” Matt demands. 

 

Patrick takes Adam from him and says, “Go tell Santa what you want for Christmas.” 

 

Matt gets into the picture with the girls and smiles for the camera and is thrown when Santa actually does ask him what he wants for Christmas. 

 

“Oh,” he says, taken aback, because he hasn’t thought about it at all. He glances over at Patrick, who has been surrounded by the girls, all of them asking for permission to do a different mall-related activity, and he takes a deep breath and looks back at Santa. “I cannot even imagine what else I could possibly want.” 

 

***

 

They decorate the tree with Christmas music playing in the background and mugs of hot cocoa and freshly baked Christmas cookies. Matt thinks it’s the most domestic thing he’s ever seen Patrick do, which is saying something, because domesticity is Patrick’s natural milieu.  

 

Afterward, Matt fiddles around with Christmas songs on the piano, listening to the sounds of bedtime rituals down the hall. He and Patrick tag-team bedtime but Matt’s in a weird reflective mood and things seem under control so he keeps playing fragments of  _ White Christmas _ until Patrick comes back. 

 

“May all your Christmases be white,” Patrick says. “You’ve requested several times now. You could move on to the next carol in your repertoire.” 

 

“Sorry,” Matt says, and stops playing. 

 

Patrick glances at him in surprise, picking up baby toys from the floor. “I didn’t mean to make you stop. I just wasn’t sure why you’d gotten stuck.” 

 

“I wasn’t really paying attention. I was thinking.” 

 

“About?” 

 

“You’re not buying me anything for Christmas, are you?” 

 

Patrick looks startled. “What? Of course. Are we not exchanging Christmas gifts?” 

 

“There’s nothing I want,” Matt says. “I can’t think of a single thing I want. I have everything I want already. Including this perfect Santa Christmas you and the kids have decided to give me. Don’t think I’m not onto all of you, with your letters to the North Pole and weird elf.” Matt gestures to Starlight, hanging off the dining room light.  

 

Patrick smiles at him and sits next to him on the piano bench. Matt slides over to make room. Patrick says, “I want you to have a perfect Christmas.” 

 

“It was always going to be a perfect Christmas,” Matt tells him. “My bar is very low.” 

 

“Matt,” Patrick says, and kisses him. 

 

***

 

Patrick writes a letter to Santa. 

 

_ Dear Santa, All I want for Christmas is Matt Usher. Love, Patrick Reed _ . 

 

He tapes it to their bathroom mirror for Matt to find. 

 

Matt replaces it with,  _ Sorry, no guarantees, you’re definitely on the naughty list after that night in Hawaii with that trick with the coconut. --Kris Kringle _

 

Patrick laughs and brings the letter to bed with him. “No guarantees?” he asks, waving it in front of Matt’s face. 

 

Matt says, “Unspeakable crimes against coconuts. Santa was appalled.” 

 

“Oh, please,” Patrick retorts, “Santa took copious notes.” 

 

“Santa doesn’t have sex,” Matt says. “Is this supposed to be foreplay we’re having here? Because it’s terrible.” 

 

Patrick says, “Do you know how many people wish for Matt Usher under their tree on Christmas morning? That thing with the coconut definitely moved me into first place.” 

 

“You’re in first place,” Matt says, “but it wasn’t the thing with the coconut that put you there.” 

 

***

 

Patrick, late on Christmas Eve, has every intention of setting up gifts under the tree. Except that Matt sprawls under it naked with a bright red bow on his ass and says, “Merry Christmas,” and all of Patrick’s plans go out the window. 

 

“Hey,” Matt says after, “I guess Santa put you on the nice list after all.” 

 

“I knew he was impressed by that coconut thing,” Patrick says drowsily. 

 

***

 

Patrick wakes up with a start to an empty bed and the fact that he never put any of the gifts out under the tree. He spares a thought for where Matt is, wonders if Adam woke and he didn’t hear him, and has a mild panic attack when the bathroom closet they’ve been hiding gifts in is empty, and then thinks, wait, Matt’s out of bed. 

 

He finds Matt sound asleep on the couch, surrounded by their Christmas presents, dressed in a pair of festive pajamas Patrick’s never seen before. There’s a matching pair for Patrick on the floor next to the couch. Patrick smiles at them and changes into them before he wakes Matt with a kiss. There are presents under the tree for Matt -- a do-it-yourself mushroom garden because Matt had spent two weeks Googling how to tell poisonous mushrooms after an alarming documentary, a pair of sunglasses Patrick cheated and got from a  _ Get Matt Usher’s Style _ guide online, a touristy hoodie to replace the one Adam managed to irredeemably destroy with chocolate ice cream, a brand new strap for his guitar case because Patrick had noticed his was worn thin with age. There are presents, but he knows that none of them are what Matt really wants. Which doesn’t offend him, Matt will like the presents, but Matt will prefer this moment, being kissed awake on Christmas morning. 

 

“Hey,” he whispers to Matt. “Merry Christmas.” 

 

Matt blinks slowly, sleepily, his eyes very dark, reflecting back the glow of the Christmas tree behind Patrick. He says, “Is it Christmas morning?” 

 

“Technically,” Patrick says. 

 

“Would you look at that?” Matt says. “Christmas morning, and I got everything I asked for. Turns out I guess that ridiculous elf was reporting our wish lists back to Santa, after all.” 

 

“Come to bed,” Patrick says. “I bet Starlight censored your wish list horribly. I bet I can improve upon it.” 

 

“I bet Santa put a coconut in your stocking,” Matt says. 

 

Patrick laughs and checks his stocking. Just in case. 

  
  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Inevitable Christmas Album](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17346581) by [QueenThayet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenThayet/pseuds/QueenThayet)




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